


Inevitable

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Established Relationship, M/M, horny on main
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: The air was heavy with sweet smells from outside, mingled with Richelieu’s perfume and the scent of his herbal tea. It would linger on his cloak for hours.
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [be_cum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_cum/gifts).



“Anything you want to confess, Captain?” Richelieu asked, his voice so light and unthreatening that the Musketeers all turned to them. They looked at Treville as if he had openly thrown himself into the flames of hell when he turned towards the Cardinal without his hand on his sword.

They did this every single time that Treville did not kill Richelieu on the spot for being sarcastic in his direction. By now, Treville should at least have scorched his hat.

The smile on Richelieu’s face was all teeth, eyes wild as the red silk sang as the new grass grew all around them and the sun ran ceaselessly into the future.

Treville allowed himself a cocky smile that he had not worn in two decades, lowering his hat so that it hid his eyes. For no longer than a breath, he looked so much younger.

“I don’t think so, Your Eminence,” he replied. “I quite like my bad habits.”

“Is that so?” Richelieu asked as the Musketeers bristled at the idea that their Captain even had bad habits, D’Artagnan muttering something about how he had heard that Treville rode too fast and maybe was a shade reckless.

All around, the spring tulips swayed around them as they followed Louis around the gardens. The flowers were pink and red and yellow, each one a shade of the finger-shaped bruises on Treville’s hips.

***

Someone had once told Treville that sex was about power. That power was about control. And with Richelieu’s hand on his pulse-point on a blistering summer night in the Palais Cardinal, their sweaty limbs entangled and barely any breath left in their lungs, he believed it.

The air was heavy with sweet smells from outside, mingled with Richelieu’s perfume and the scent of his herbal tea. It would linger on his cloak for hours.

“France needs you,” Richelieu said against Treville’s skin like a prayer. “You know that, down to the marrow of your bones.”

“Yes,” Treville breathed out, drinking in the sight of Richelieu’s satisfied expression and his silken voice. “I know.”

He was almost drunk with it, his body alight as Richelieu lay back naked on the pillows.

His knees did not feel full of broken glass as he wrapped his legs around Richelieu, his hands did not complain as he raked his nails down Richelieu’s back as they kissed and moved against each other. His teeth sank into Richelieu’s pale shoulder, his fingertips brushed against his delicate wrists and ankles.

Primal and chaste, so tangled in each other that they could only speak of desire.

***

“What is going to happen next, then?” the Cardinal demanded, whirling towards Treville. Richelieu’s voice was as cold as the autumn winds howling outside.

The king looked tired; his movements unsure.

And no wonder, Richelieu was on a rampage, the Red Guards and the Musketeers at each other’s throats in the streets.

Treville had made so many plans in such detail that he could hear the footsteps echo down roads he had not taken and would never take.

Paris was full of plots and so many of them were against the king.

Treville had not slept for over a week, working so much that he never knew which was dusk and which was dawn. There were a thousand problems that had to be solved and his men had already failed him several times over. He’d had to fight off an assassin that threatened the king only last night. His sword had run through the man’s chest, the sound of his body hitting the floor would show up later in his nightmares. And there were others like him out there, with crossbows aimed from windows and blades hidden on their person. None of them could be allowed to get close to his majesty.

“You are going to stay in Paris,” Treville said, shortly. “And I’m going to leave the city.”

“We all know that,” the Cardinal replied, looking haughty. “Those are just facts.”

“Indeed,” Treville said, not looking at how the Cardinal’s eyes were red-rimmed and his hands shook. “I will deal with this myself, your majesty. My men will stay with you.”

He bowed.

He did not look back as he turned around, hat in hand as he made his way back to the barracks. No matter how his men had protested, no matter that the king had opened his mouth to call him back to his side, no matter in how there had been a flash of misery on the Cardinal’s face.

There was no use in that.

No use at all.

His heart had always been in a merciless bareknuckle barfight with his heart. Today, his head had to win.

***

“Your bad habits will eventually kill you,” Richelieu said, gathering up the endless red silk as the carriage sped through Paris. There was still snow in his silver curls, his lips were so cracked from the cold that they were bleeding. “You know this.”

“I do,” Treville said, looking down at their entwined hands. “Of course I fucking do.”

“Time is running out,” Richelieu said, looking up at the roof of the carriage as if he wanted to drag God down for not giving them more time. “You can’t stay Captain forever.”

His breath was a cloud in the air between them.

The ice on the cobblestones cracked under the wheels of the carriage.

Treville knew that his beard was flecked with grey, that his reflexes were getting worse with every sunrise.

“And you will never leave Paris, your bones will be buried there,” Treville continued. “And I’ll wait out my life in the countryside, loving you but never being in the same room as you ever again.”

The Cardinal looked taken aback, for a moment.

“But we all know that,” Treville said, tilting his head. “Those are just facts.”

**Author's Note:**

> References:  
> “The Fear,”, “Desire,” “I Stopped Going To Therapy” by Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers and In A Dream You Saw A Way to Survive.  
> “Four Quartets” by T. S Eliot


End file.
